One Night, Eight Months Later
by altanna
Summary: What happened on that night, eight months after Vincent took an injured Catherine back to her home? Please read and review. This was originally written in 1993 for a fan publication. I am the original author.


One Night, Eight Months Later

With a deep breath, she turned around and gazed behind her into the tunnels, her mind turning over a myriad of questions. What had actually happened to her life these past several months? She felt so different, refreshed, as though she'd never lived before! Was it possible? Had, unbeknownst to her, this wonderful yet frightening man...this kind and gentle spirit...taught her the true meaning of living, of life itself, in the short span of ten days?  
  
Catherine Chandler contemplated for a moment, leaning against the brick wall of the sub-basement below her apartment building, her mind carefully sorting out all that had occurred in the past few hours. She tried to determine exactly what it meant to her, and an enigmatic smile lightly graced her beautiful face as she thought of Vincent. It always came back to him, no matter what she thought of. It was all because of Vincent, the soft- spoken, kind-hearted individual who had found her in the park near death just eight months ago. If not for Vincent and the secret world from which he came...who knew?  
  
She shuddered, unable to allow herself to dwell on the harshness of those thoughts or that reality. Instead she sighed, unable to keep from wondering if she would ever put this giant jigsaw puzzle of her life together. There were important pieces missing. This she had known for a long time. She needed to find her own way now, to discover who she was and what she was destined to do.  
  
She longed for love and comfort, for a companion to ease her long nights of loneliness. She had honestly thought her search was over when she believed she was in love with Steven Bass; for awhile they had been happy with each other. More recently, since finishing law school and beginning her career with her father's firm, she had met Tom Gunther, and until now, thought herself happy touring the town with him.  
  
Running her hand over one of the pipes before her, she sighed. Her heart ached, for she had been wrong about both of those men, wrong about her feelings for them. Oh, she couldn't blame them, for each in his own way had tried to give her what they thought she wanted. She couldn't blame them because they had failed. What she needed was still out there waiting, and, she frowned sadly, it was something she wanted to find desperately.  
  
Once again her thoughts went to Vincent, for he was unlike any man she had ever known. In fact, she smiled, he was unlike anyone she had ever met before! After finding her alone and dying in the park, he had taken it upon himself to assist her when others would have passed her by. He carried her Below to his bed and cared for her, knowing that he had broken one of his society's strictest rules. Unshaken by the prospect of whatever punishment or disapproval might await him, he had stayed close to her, tended her though his father had expressed both doubt and misgiving about both her and her world.  
  
And he had stayed near, for as she began to heal, she had been worried about her surroundings, her circumstances. After all, since the bandages covered her eyes, she couldn't see and had no idea where she was or with whom.  
  
Through it all, Vincent's voice had been a lifeline to her tortured soul. From his voice she gained confidence and found her own courage and strength. From the first time she'd heard him speak her name, she knew she could trust him. Trust him and allow the comfort and compassion he showed her as well as the enchantment surrounding her to heal her battered body and bruised mind. Why, thinking of it now, she knew his affectionate heart and gentle, diligent attentiveness had made her feel reborn. The hours they were together had passed effortlessly. Vincent read to her, talked of her life and family. He'd saved her mind from the depression and fear she'd felt during those first, ominous hours after regaining consciousness, for her hold upon herself had been tenuous at best. With the love in his never- faltering heart, he'd saved her from the hopelessness growing in her, assuring her she was strong enough to face anything.  
  
Pursing her lips, Catherine looked back along the tunnel she'd just come down. He'd been right of course, for in the past several months her life had changed drastically in so many ways. He'd done so much for her, sacrificed so much of his time and effort, but tonight, she sighed with a shake of her head, tonight he'd actually saved her life!  
  
Marty Belmont and his men must have been watching Carol Stabler, she decided. There was no other logical answer. They must have seen her come to the District Attorney's Office, then followed Larry's car to the village. Once she was alone, it had been easy for them to break into the brownstone and even easier to kill the poor lady when they outnumbered her three to one.  
  
Sorrow filled Catherine's heart as she thought of Carol. The woman's courage had been astounding. Now she frowned angrily. Carol was dead, and blamed herself. The brownstone was supposed to be safe, a hiding place--but it had turned into a nightmare for everyone.  
  
Catherine's thoughts returned suddenly to Vincent, for she'd seen something tonight that had, for just a moment, unnerved her. With razor sharp claws, he had ripped into the men who had killed Carol--the men who'd tried to kill her. She'd watched in horror as he'd turned into a monster before her eyes, wondering what kind of man he really was and if she were safe with him.  
  
Her answer had come quickly enough, for once the men moved no more, he turned to her, his expression changing quickly. He realized where he was and what he was. Silently he came back to his senses, overcome by what he saw, ashamed by what he'd done. His head fell forward, his grief apparent and thorough. He was a man mortified with himself, disgusted with himself, wanting only to run away and never allow her to look upon him again.  
  
At the time, she'd been unable to say exactly how she felt, unable to utter a word of thanks or comfort, unable to explain the tremendous relief and appreciation she felt. One look into his eyes had silenced her, for he hadn't wanted to hear those sentiments from her, couldn't allow himself the privilege of knowing her life had been spared because of what he'd done.  
  
Catherine looked past the broken brick wall, toward the corridor leading to the secret ladder. The bright lights flowing down from above protected the secret of its existence, the secret of the society below the Manhattan streets. The corridor itself was stale, cobweb filled and dusty--a place she would never think to enter under any other sort of circumstances. But, smiling now, she moved toward it willingly; it was a small price to pay for redemption. There was a sense of freedom here, freedom in knowing the secret of that place, knowing you were one of the privileged few chosen to be a part of it, to protect it from those who'd never understand or accept it. There was also a sense of hope in knowing Vincent was a part of that secret--a very large part of it, she thought. And now, she smiled again, he'd forever be a part of her life, if not her world.  
  
"I owe you everything...everything," she'd said to him, feeling his shaking arms beneath her fingers as he'd tried to pull away from her.  
  
"You owe me nothing," he protested gently, meeting her eyes as though to apologize. "I'm a part of you, Catherine," he went on, his voice shaking, "just as you're a part of me."  
  
A tear found its way down her cheek as Catherine's face tightened in a frown. He'd wanted to say good-bye to her, excuse himself and the truth of his existence from her life as though he never meant to allow her to look upon him again.  
  
She shook her head, resolute in her decision. She would not allow that injustice to happen. Whether he liked it or not, he was a part of her life now; she needed his stability and strength. But, she thought with a sigh as she turned toward the hidden ladder leading Above, she didn't think he'd make it easy for her to find him. She knew the paths leading to those inner chambers were mazes, dangerous for her until she knew their secrets.  
  
Until she knew. The hope in those words made her brighten, the smile on her face filled with eagerness. She understood everything now, accepted everything she felt and welcomed it.  
  
"For now, Vincent," she promised them both again, reaffirming her parting words to him in the tunnel junction several moments before. "Until our paths cross again, good-bye for now."  
  
Pausing at the foot of the ladder, she glanced hopefully over her shoulder, taking a last look at the safety of the sub-basement as she took hold of the first rung. "Be well, Vincent," she murmured sincerely. "Don't forget me ... no matter how much your father distrusts me. I would never betray your world." She sighed, then turned quickly from the light to add, "and be safe."  
  
Satisfied with the blissful sense of serenity filling her heart, Catherine began the climb knowing she returned to the hopelessness and chaos of one world but kept the enchantment and hope of the other world within her


End file.
